


Cursed to be Happy

by Lxie



Series: Bedtime Stories [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bedtime Stories, I'm turning a story of someone who's always happy into a tragedy, M/M, Magic, Maybe a little angsty?, Prequel, but it kinda is?, but not really?, fairy!allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxie/pseuds/Lxie
Summary: Once upon a time there was this little boy that was blessed to always be happy......the blessing turned into a curse...





	Cursed to be Happy

**Author's Note:**

> You tug on my sleeve as I get up to leave. I look down to see your little face turned up to mine, eyes as big and puppyish as possible. "Can you tell me a bedtime story?" you ask in your sweet little voice.  
> I smile, heart melting just a little bit. I sit down, the mattress dipping under my weight. I tug the covers up to your shoulders as you relax into your pillows.  
> Stroking hair off of your face with a gentle hand I say, "Alright," I hold up one finger. "But only one okay?"  
> Eagerly you nod, hair falling back in the way. I stroke it back again and take a breath.  
> "Okay, let's start."

 

One can gain magic in many, many ways. Some good, some bad. Magic can be earned. It can be given or birthed. It can be raised. It can also be taken. Forced. Magic is also different for different people, for some, it’s a gift, a blessing. Others, a curse.

This is a story of how a blessing became a curse.

 

* * *

 

 

It started benign enough. A happy nameday approached and neighbors and friends showed for miles around for the couple’s newest babe. A happy baby boy with bright blue eyes and a charming gummy grin. A cheer rose up in the village at his first laugh; he took to strangers with a warrior’s spirit and bubbling giggles. Everyone was charmed by this little miracle, even the Good Neighbors.

But that’s when it went wrong.

Magic was given on that nameday. One might think by the fairy, whose name was lost in retellings, the only clue to her name is the term _hag._ But no. She didn’t start out that way. And neither did she cast the spell. Her apprentice, one so beautiful and kind and once naïve, alluring in the worst of ways, cast the blessing on this tiny baby boy.

In practice for the royal christening she decided to bless this beloved child with all the best intentions of the world. Her mentor applauded her. Encouraged her even. But every spell cast must have a loophole. Tis the way of the fae.

The apprentice hovered over the cradle of the child, he greeted her with a happy giggle and gently, even for a little babe, touched her silver locks.

Warmth enveloped her heart. What better to bless this child with than what he already gives?

And with a wave of her hand she blessed him to be happy.

Always.

 

* * *

 

 

At first his parents were overjoyed with the news. A child who is never sad or hurt, who won’t cry or be angry. It sounded like a dream come true. They went the first few years in blissful relief but their other children were concerned and soon they did too. They were a rambunctious family after all. They have watched their littlest brother walk away from playing with bruises, cuts, and blood, with a smile and a laugh. His arm would be bent and through pain filled tears that he didn’t understand asking them why _they_ were the ones crying. Why was _he?_

Even though the fairy had made sure he was blessed with happiness no one could be happy forever right? That’s what his siblings thought. They merely waited until the happiness gave out.

 

* * *

 

 

He grew up as a happy child, but, of course, what choice did he have? Nevertheless he was happy. What made him _extraordinarily_ happy was making _others_ happy. He would laugh and tell jokes. Sometimes he would reduce to physical comedy, strange salty liquid in his eyes that always confused him—because that’s not what supposed to be there right? —whenever he went too far and sharp throbbing pain permeated his body. Anything to make someone crack a smile.

He found though that not everyone wanted to smile all the time.

 

* * *

 

When someone he loved was hurt or was sad he tried to make them happy. Anything, a light in the eye, twitch of a lip, but sometimes they just couldn’t bring themselves to create a fake smile just for him.

The older he got the more he found that he couldn’t make people be happy and that made him feel…not happy. He didn’t know what it was but he knew it’s not the feeling that had been with him since birth.

He found himself more and more alone. The distance between him and others too much for his happiness to breech. Even when they’re done being _not happy_ , faces dry and puffy, ready to smile again, they keep their distance from him. He tried. He really, really _tried_. But they stopped sharing the other emotions he never understood and he found that they stopped sharing their happiness with him.

He knew he was missing something. Something was wrong with him. He couldn’t connect with people.

When he told his family that he was leaving they cried. He was too innocent. Too sheltered. Too happy. The world would eat him up alive and leave nothing but empty laughter.

He didn’t understand.

 

* * *

 

He set off on his journey to find the fairy that cursed him with happiness. He had no idea where to start. No experience outside of his village but he was optimistic. What else would he be? He came across many horrors in his travels. Would they still be considered horrors to someone always happy?

Horrors. Something that his brain registered as “bad” but nothing he could really feel.

Sickness was well enough for him to help. Some jokes and juggling and those children were laughing between coughs. It didn’t help when one of those children succumbed to the sickness. “Why are you still happy? Didn’t you care?” parents asked.

He moved along.

Hunger was another beast that he could stab at. Happy that the little food that he had helped the hungry family he encountered. But when the food ran out there were only more hungry families and they couldn’t eat smiles.

He couldn’t do anything.

Death and grief is something he doesn’t want to even think about. No one wants a fool at a funeral.

 

* * *

 

 

Finally, he caught wind of the fairy that cursed him. Who, then, was a close friend of the royal family, blessings at the christenings, wishes granted, prayers answered.

Her face lighted upon seeing him, her work a stamp, a mark that she’ll always recognize.

“The happy boy,” she recognized. She greeted him, respectful distance away. She inquired about his life so far.

“….happy,” he replied.

“Excellent.” She clapped her hands. “So far it has been successful.”

“No,” he breathed. Desperate, but not. “No, it has not.” He was not happy. He felt nothing else but happy. There was happy and there’s nothingness. If he didn’t feel happy then he didn’t feel anything at all. “There’s something _wrong,”_ he tried to explain. “Something not right. _Please, **please**_ break the curse.”

She stepped back, shock plain on her face. Curse? He believed she cursed him? That wasn’t what she intended. That wasn’t it at _all_. She just wanted this beloved little boy to always be happy.

“I’m alone,” he says. “I’m happy but I can’t share it with anyone and no one wants to share their happiness with me. Even now I should feel something. I know I’m not happy but I can’t feel anything. What other feelings are there but _happy?_ I must know.”

She took a breath. The loophole that her former mentor told her. The fairy that turned, her advice used for good. How ironic.

She approached him and laid her hand on his hair. “I was young when I cast the spell but even then I cannot reverse what has been cemented without much pain. Pain that I’m afraid you won’t be able to endure as a mortal. There is a loophole, but it will require sacrifice.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You must learn magic,” she explained as she led him to her magical cavern. “The spell was to make a human boy forever happy.” She handed him book after magic book. “If you become something other than human then the spell will release. Remember,” she says, staring into his eyes. “Magic always has a catch.”

She left him with his studies.

 

* * *

 

 

He learned the way of the fae. The twisted words and double doors. The catches and releases either for him or someone else. He had yet to find a spell that turned him not of the mortal plane.

He studied.

Years go by.

Books are read.

He learned to perform small magics. Fruit was always ripe, he always got the best cut of beef, the bed was always soft. But he had to build the magic. Gather it like wool stuck on thorns. Slowly, gently, carefully, in small increments.

One day he found something that he thought might work. After the years he had the ability but it takes time to gather the magic. He waited.

 

* * *

 

 

A circle, candles, the elements at every corner of the star in the middle. He sat in the center and began the incantation.

He felt his body lifting, becoming ethereal then soon fading until there’s just consciousness. The spell didn’t do what he expected. His mind watched as his physical being slowly faded into nothingness. Contrary to what his family believed what was left of him was not laughter but the whispers of a spell gone wrong.

He floated.

For how long? To this day he doesn’t know. Not until the fairy showed calling out his name. She stopped mid-shout and looked directly at him. She walked to the middle of the circle, past the left over numbs of wax, picked up the book. “You fool.” She doesn’t shout, a statement. A fact. She looked at him once again. “You’ve turned yourself into pure magic.”

For the first time in his life Lance cried, but there are no tears to fall.

 

* * *

 

She says that given enough time he could turn himself human or at least physically connected to the human plane. It will take time and a lot of magic.

Sadly, —sadly _,_ he can feel _sadness_ — he learns he is only a conduct of power. He finds that he needs others to gather the magic, fae, witches, even humans, anyone with a magical ability.

He still finds that he loves making people happy, his curse did not change that part of him. This way he can help them. A little girl wishes on a star that her family would find enough money to eat the next day? Done. The boy who blows all of the fuzzies off of a dandelion wishes for a dog? Done. The man who prays for the love of his life? Not done. Impossible really. He could not conduct fate or humans as he could magic. It has occurs to him that he could collect the magic they gathered to become human but what he could do filled him with joy.

It meant something. He made a difference. Sometimes seeing their situations made phantom tears roll down his nonexistent cheeks. Or angry and indignant on their behalf but he knew the importance of those situations. Of _feeling_. The unnamed welling in the soul that spilled over on cheeks and lips. He wouldn’t want to wish that on them, taking away those feelings. Every single one. All of them made everything worth _living_ making happiness _that much more so_.

It might take him years to become human. He might never want to be human. But he’s finally enjoying life as one.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kay, this is for my friend Ellie but Rea and her were pissing me off so I threatened to delete this story Rea didn't believe I would but I'm Extra(TM) so I did. But hey, there were only like 2 kudos on this thing in the first place so who cares.


End file.
